It's Good Enough
by Anhai
Summary: Skydive's lost. Fireflight finds him. Twice.
1. For You I Will

Skydive ambled along over the South Atlantic Ocean, lazily nosing toward Angola. He waggled his wings a bit, checked his chronometer again, and mentally sighed. Maybe he should start heading back-

Something pinged on his radar.

_Or not_, he thought dryly, straightening himself out and flying with far more purpose than he had been before. /Fireflight,/ he acknowledged.

/Skydive!/ Fireflight replied happily. /Where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you!/

/I was just flying,/ Skydive said, easing up on his speed slightly. Fireflight wasn't in visual range yet, but he would be soon. Skydive was sure. /I haven't received any status requests since the battle. I'm sorry if I worried you./ And...there. Sure enough, between one flap twitch and the next, Fireflight's bright form appeared, heading at him from the northwest.

/We weren't worried,/ Fireflight said immediately, then, /well…except Silverbolt. What are you doing all the way down here?/

If Skydive had been in root mode, he would have smiled a very grim sort of smile. /As I said, I just wanted to fly. Have you informed Silverbolt of my status? I would, but since I haven't picked up any of you calling for me it's probably a safe bet that my long-distance communications are out./

/Uh…oh, right,/ Fireflight paused for a while, supposedly contacting Silverbolt, while Skydive changed directions easily, heading toward Fireflight. His wing twitched approvingly as Fireflight swung out wide to let him through, barely even seeming to realize he was doing so. /Okay, he says we need to come back now. Are you hurt?/

Skydive passed Fireflight while his teammate banked (too tight and too fast, coming through a tad sloppy, but Skydive didn't need to mention that), completing his own turn on Skydive's wing. /No, I'm not hurt./

Skydive kept himself from twitching nervously at how close Fireflight had ended up next to him, but he still eased to the side a little, smooth enough that if it had been anyone but Fireflight they wouldn't have even noticed.

/But why's your radio out, then?/ and Fireflight, if he cared about Skydive's maneuver, didn't say anything.

/I'm not hurt _badly_,/ Skydive amended, flipping over so he was flying on his side and Fireflight could scan his belly. There were one or two scorch marks there, but nothing serious. /It seems to be that only my communications that were affected. I can have it checked when we get back./

/Okay,/ Fireflight said brightly and, just like that, his worry vanished, /but why are we going this way then? Isn't base the other way?/

_Bingo, 'Flight_. After a long pause, Skydive spoke, /…is it?/

Fireflight went quiet and then bobbed slightly in confusion. /You can't tell?/

/…My GPS isn't…at its best right now, either. Apparently./

/But…then…wait, you were _lost_?/ Fireflight yelped, falling back a bit in surprise. /Was that why you were all the way down here?/

/…/ Skydive said.

/You were!/ Fireflight whooped, laughing. /You were lost!/

/_Fireflight_…/

Fireflight didn't reply, but there was a distinctive buzz of phantom electricity over his wings that belied the transmissions. Skydive resisted the urge to sigh guesses as to who was on the other end, and the first two didn't count. /Fireflight_._/

His teammate only giggled, weaving dangerously in his amusement and forcing Skydive to swing out quickly to avoid being clipped. /I told the others. They said they're gonna come and help…y'know, just in case./

Skydive didn't reply, wing flaps falling unnaturally still. His entire body screamed his irritation, but only to those who could recognize it.

Fireflight giggled again. /Come on, Skydive. It's not that bad. I do it all the time!/

/Yes, Fireflight. _I know_./ Skydive said, but Fireflight didn't take offense. He was even humming happily over the general radio, so Skydive sighed audibly, dropping altitude in something of a slump of defeat. /…And the others' ETA?/

/Fifteen minutes,/ Fireflight chirped. Skydive didn't groan.

/Of course./

Fifteen minutes later, when Skydive had Air Raid laughing his tail-fins off and turning ever-more dangerous loops around him, and Slingshot flying off his other wing, him and Fireflight having a contest on who could give Skydive the most…"helpful" suggestions, Skydive radioed Silverbolt. /Sir,/ he said, wearily resisting the urge to spook when Air Raid nearly brushed his cockpit.

/Skydive,/ Silverbolt replied almost immediately, /I think I'm supposed to be out of your contact range./

/Yes, I know,/ was all Skydive said. He let the whoops of Air Raid in the background and Fireflight's giggles say the rest:

_You owe me_.

Silverbolt didn't reply at first, but eventually, sounding apologetic but still far too amused, he said: /I have your documentary of World War Two fighters here with me now, just arrived; would you like me to order you the second volume?/

/Yes that would be appreciated. Thank you, Commander./ Skydive would have, had he been able, smirked.

/Of course,/ Silverbolt said with a small laugh, but something..._something _in his voice kept Skydive from closing the line on him, waiting. It didn't take long, but Silverbolt awkwardly rebooted the connection a couple times before speaking. /Is…Fireflight. Is he…?/

Without replying Skydive performed a quick, basic scan of Fireflight's systems and compared the behavior of the last half an hour with how he had been acting for the past week since his latest crash, then ran it by his extensive knowledge of Fireflight's usual state of being. /Yes,/ he said eventually. Confident. /Fireflight's running optimally, by my estimate./

Silverbolt's faint smile was easy for Skydive, who spent so much time he would never admit looking for it, to hear. /Good. Thank you, Skydive. Again./

/No thanks necessary, Commander,/ Skydive replied evenly, careful to keep his voice from giving away the faint static of warmth he felt at Silverbolt's gratitude. He closed the link as Fireflight tried to bump against his wing, coolly pulling away and shaking himself lightly, while Fireflight yelped an apology to the laughter of his teammates.

_Any time._


	2. Reality Becomes You

_Um_. Skydive having nasty moodswings is hard to write, so if you think there's something wonky going on with his characterization here please let me know. Crit on anything else is welcome and appreciated.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Skydive didn't know where he was when he landed except that he wanted to be there. He thought he did, at least.

Why else would he have landed?

"Silverbolt?" Skydive called unsteadily, transforming _ignore the hurt, ignore the hurt_ and standing up, swaying violently. He took a step, "Silverbolt?" and his leg gave out, folding beneath him and sending him to his knees. After a long while of kneeling there, systems running hard in surprise, Skydive shuddered and folded himself forward and down, curling himself up into a half-hearted ball. "Guys?"

No one answered and Skydive flinched, pressing his face into the _dirt, rocks, rubble_ under him.

_Alone_.

That hurt, somehow, far more than leaking wounds and torn wings ever could. Skydive shuddered, bothered by his own hurt for reasons he couldn't quite remember.

"Guys?" he said again, voice very, very small. "…Please?"

Nothing.

He shouldn't have been expecting anything. Logically, he knew he shouldn't have…but somehow he had been. Something in his glitching processor had been convinced that if he only asked, they would come. And they hadn't. They didn't.

_I have to find them._

_I can't_.

Skydive was hurting. He was hurting, and he was alone, and he was…

_Offline: weapons, global positioning, communications, flight systemszzz-_

_helpless_

Skydive cut off the diagnostics feed. _I have to find them_.

He tried to stand, stumbled a bit, and then straightened as his wounds screamed and screamed and screamed. _I have to find them_.

_I can't survive alone. I need them_.

Skydive wavered, and moved to take a step.

_I…I don't want to be alone. I want them_.

Then he tripped. Skydive cried out as his hands caught on the rocks and mounds of broken concrete. It felt like someone had taken a laser scalpel to his palms after turning their sensitivity levels up to two hundred. His self-repair made clear its opinion on the matter with a sudden influx of bright red warnings, appearing and disappearing almost too fast to keep track of if Skydive hadn't had a highly advanced computer for a brain.

_Equilibrium: 23%_

Skydive groaned, and then shakily pushed himself up until he was sitting on his knees, cradling his cut and leaking hands carefully against his chest as he looked around at a world flickering in and out of grayscale. _I don't know what to do_, he realized, mouth tightening in distress as he blankly took in the concrete and the dirt. _I don't know what to do_.

_Processor: General Functions: Warning! Warning! Below minimum recommended standard. _

_I can't think_.

Something vaguely like panic stirred in the fuel running through Skydive's lines. It wasn't an emotion he felt often, and the awareness that he_ was feeling it _agitated him more than the emotion itself. _No,_ he thought to himself viciously, curling protectively around his hands and staring down at them. _No, I have to think. Think, Skydive. Think. You can't lose your head, what would the others do if—_

Skydive cut that train of thought off before it could lead back to _alone_, and went still.

Then he offlined his optics and ran air hard through what vents were still operational. _No. Calm down_.

_Calm_.

He was shaking. Skydive tried to force himself to stop but it didn't work, so he blocked the program that allowed him to be aware of the shaking. That was okay, he rationalizied, since the awareness of not being in control of his own body was causing him even more distress.

_Calm_, he thought, and shut down a few more programs.

Skydive felt the numb sensation coming and welcomed it with a muted sort of relief. He'd shut down the program that allowed him focused awareness of his own emotions. A sentient mechanism, naturally, couldn't lock away all awareness of emotion, but he could choose to ignore them if he wished. It was a blessing, and Skydive felt the tension ease from him.

The crash, he knew now that he cared to examine it, had activated his survival sub-routines, which had in turn activated the emotional awareness programming he usually kept off during battle situations. It was supposed to aid in his own survival, since an emotional mechanism was quicker to respond to the sub-routines meant to keep him alive. It was why deactivating those programs was strongly advised against.

Skydive didn't need those though. He needed to be able to _think_.

_If I don't get help, I'll die_.

The knowledge didn't bother him so much anymore. That was good. Now…now what?

_Get help. _

_I can't get help. _

_Then I'll die._

In the distance, there was a sound of something mechanical. Skydive thought it sounded like an engine, and he onlined his optics and turned his head in the vague direction of the noise.

_Audio at only 6% maximum. Thundercracker uses sound weaponry. Whatever is causing the noise must be closer than it appears? How much closer?_

…_Audio interpretation at only 14%. I might not have heard anything at all. _

Skydive dulled the input of audio and focused on his sight, straining to see past the sun. If it was a Decepticon, he was dead. There was no cover, and no chance of returning fire. His armor was shot, he was unable to run or fly, and he was half-deaf and half-blind. Helpless.

Skydive found he hated being helpless.

…_There it is. _

_Jet_.

_Which kind, though? Decepticon…or my brothers? Powerglide? _

Skydive didn't allow himself the luxury of hope very often. Now was no different.

_Chances of it being a Decepticon are upwards of 83%, and that's only if my emergency transmitter wasn't fried in the crash. _

The rest of the Aerialbots could find him even without a transmitter, but there were only four of them and Skydive didn't even know where he was or how far he'd flown. Or who had might have been tracking him at the time. The chances of them finding him before the enemy were…better than if they weren't gestalt, but still not good.

And there wasn't anything Skydive could do about it, except snag a twisted metal beam and heft it into his torn hands. It wouldn't do much, if anything, at all, but it was something. Something was more than he had by himself.

Skydive turned his attentions back to the sky, and he waited.

* * *

Honestly, he should have known better.

* * *

"Skydive!" Fireflight was careful when he landed, transforming mid-air and touching down several yards from Skydive to avoid running into him if he tripped, but he crossed the space between them in a few long steps and the distance ended up not mattering at all. "Are you okay?" he asked, going to his knees and glancing at the pink-stained metal in Skydive's hands. There was little doubt that Fireflight had noticed the damaged wings and the energon staining Skydive all over, but he asked Skydive for his input anyway. That was…right. That was right.

Skydive stared. "…Yes," he said, then dropped the metal to hold up his stinging hands to show his brother. Fireflight frowned and took them gently in his own hands.

"Ratchet will fix them right up, you'll see," he said while Skydive continued to stare at him. "You'll feel a lot better once we get you back to base."

"…I can't fly," Skydive said. Fireflight looked up from his inspection of Skydive's hands to look first to Skydive's face and then to his wings. Something darkened across Fireflight's expression, but he smiled anyway.

"I know," he said, and squeezed Skydive's hands gently. It didn't hurt. "I can carry you."

Skydive didn't like that, something tight and constricting in his chest like panic upsetting him greatly. Skydive didn't like the fact that he didn't like that, and tugged lightly at his hands to get them back from Fireflight. He checked the status on his programs. The constricting feeling drew in tighter and crept up into his throat as he realized he was suddenly aware of his own emotions again.

_Presence of Gestalt Component C4H Acknowledged. Processor Section: 185.67A. B. C. TH1-NETA. HAV…_

_ACTIVATED._

_No. I still need to think. Go _away_ I still need to think_.

He turned it off.

It turned itself back on.

Fireflight was watching him, optics lightening in worry and question. Skydive met his look with blank, helpless frustration.

"It won't stay off," he explained, frowning darkly at the ground.

Fireflight frowned, too. "What?" he asked, and edged closer. Skydive shook his head helplessly.

The problem with blocking out emotional awareness was that once it came back on the emotions were twice as hard to deal with, and Skydive was still hurting, and he still could have _died_ but now he wasn't, and somehow that was more overwhelming than the awareness of death itself.

"You're shaking." Fireflight said loudly, touching Skydive's shoulder in sudden alarm. "Skydive?"

Skydive shook his head again, hunching down over himself protectively and clenching his hands into painful fists to try and still them. "Sorry," he said tightly, and Fireflight made a sound a little like a breath and a little like _oh_…

"It's okay," Fireflight said, suddenly sounding different, sounding…Skydive struggled to place it and couldn't. Different. Fireflight's arm went carefully around Skydive's shoulders and he pulled his brother to him, ignoring the tension that suddenly went down Skydive's wings at the contact. "It's okay."

And then Skydive realized that Fireflight sounded like _him_. Like Silverbolt and Air Raid and even Slingshot, when no one else was there to provide it. Low-frequency humming beneath the words and soft-voiced and quiet and…comforting.

Fireflight was comforting _him_.

Skydive tensed, holding his head away from Fireflight's shoulder with a stiff neck. Fireflight didn't seem to mind, just held him and crooned lightly in his vocalizer like Slingshot did when the he thought no one was listening. His fingers rubbed gently at an uninjured spot on Skydive's back, and it felt…but…Skydive offlined his optics and tried to down the sudden burst of _panic_ he felt. And not just panic, but…emotion. Pure emotion building up inside of him. Relief, horror, fear, _safetysafetysafety_ and embarrassment and unfamiliar pride that was small but no less wounded. His awareness programs simply weren't listening to him anymore though, and the whole mess of it hit Skydive so hard he physically jolted, lurching against Fireflight's grip, a soft wailing noise escaping him. Fireflight only crooned louder.

"It's okay," he said, over and over again. "It's okay, you're safe now – you're safe. I promise. It's okay."

Skydive had never dealt with this before. He'd seen the others like this, sometimes, but he hadn't…he hadn't _understood_. Skydive wailed a little louder, still not _loud_, but louder, burrowing into Fireflight's hold without conscious thought. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

He couldn't make it stop.

Fireflight just held him close, and talked while the world broke around them.

How long it lasted, Skydive would never be able to say, but eventually Skydive was aware that he was leaning against Fireflight's chest in a state just beyond _exhausted_.

Fireflight was quiet for a little while, letting Skydive shiver. "Are you feeling better?"

Skydive was quiet too, trying to get a bearing on his suddenly sluggish processor and the way he felt indescribably _raw_. Exposed. He nodded. "Yes," he said quietly, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

Fireflight laughed lightly, nuzzling affectionately at Skydive's energon-stained helm. "I don't mind," he said. "You would have done the same for me, right?"

…_Yes._

Skydive shuddered a little. "Of cour..." he trailed off, optics flickering unsteadily at the sudden pain from his processor as it threw up a warning informing him of impending shut down. He trembled harder _I forgot the words_ and leaned against Fireflight, tucking his head into his wingmate's shoulder. "It hurts," he said instead, quietly, almost as though he wasn't sure how to.

And Fireflight, _Fireflight, of course I would_, just held him close, mindful of scrapes and hurts both big and small. "That's all right," he said. "It's okay. I'll take you home."


End file.
